


Detonate Me

by SomeBratInAMask



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not Cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/pseuds/SomeBratInAMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three different relationships at three different points in time, accompanying three different explosions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detonate Me

Apollo. Ancient Greek and Roman sun god. Back then, before M was alive, before anyone he knows was alive, people believed in it. M has a hard time believing that people believed at all. He's seen creationism at its finest, but the word _God_ has always left a sour taste in his mouth. _God_ is a dark labyrinth of computers and test tubes, not a mountain in the sky. _God_ and _sun_ are antithetical.

Apollo. Andrew Pulaski with his hair like gold and his body like flames, and that tongue like fire with eyes so blue. He's invincible when he flies, shoulders broad and fists curled as blasts of _sheer energy_ fight back every dark thing that crawls their way. And he _is,_ he _is_ the sun and that is the one thing that M can believe in.

When Andrew touches the ground, he smiles. All these statistics in M's head, every database-derived number, and his smile shines in an improbable way that M could never have predicted. He's lucky it's the one thing that doesn't hurt when it hits.

Andrew bumps their foreheads, so M holds his chin and gently lowers him into a kiss. Andrew smiles into it before a blast rattles the earth behind them. M jerks back, searching for an explosion, but Andrew is all there is.

Andrew, god of the sun, smiling improbably.

Gorgeous Andrew, and some flattened buildings.

 

* * *

 

The day is saved in an unusually quiet manner. An entire underground criminal network shut down without blood splatter. M is more than mildly disappointed. Peace as a means is nice, but it’s better as just the ends. Pacifism doesn’t give him an adrenaline rush.

Dick approaches him. Even in a pair of cargo pants, he’s got the same slinky kind of walk he did in black tights. “We did it,” announces Dick, slow-clapping. “Crisis averted, one less black market stockholder.” Dick places his hands on his hips. “What’s it like, being a hero?”

M squints at the office building the criminals had turned into their headquarters. It’s swarmed by a couple other costumed assholes, as well as a brigade of city police. And despite the popularity, it’s rather placid. M returns his gaze to Dick. “Boring,” he answers.

Dick scoffs. “Boring? Seriously?”

M shrugs. “Look, if I can’t pinpoint the climatic event, then it was boring. I mean, what did all this take?” M gestures broadly at the parking lot, lit in blue and red by police lights. “Planting some wires, hacking some phone calls? Hell, the dude with the bomb remote didn’t even put up a fight when you confiscated it.”

Dick glanced backward at the low-level bomb set on the pavement, a smirk playing on his lips. Nightwing’s official property now, for whatever is left of that mantle. “Were you looking forward to an explosion?” he asks.

M sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Something in that realm of violence.” He smirks back suddenly. “It’s not _really_ saving the day unless there’s _some_ destruction.” 

Dick steps closer and waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You know,” he says, teasing, “there doesn’t need to be a dramatic ending for there to be a dramatic _kiss.”_ And there Dick goes again, behaving like a frat boy even though Midnighter _knows_ he dropped out of college his first semester. Still, when Dick rests his rough palm on the back of M’s neck, he lets himself be pulled down. Dick’s got this wicked grin on his face. It’s his best look. _“But,”_ he continues, edging on sing-song, “backdrop explosions never hurt a scene.”

Out of the corner of his eye, M catches the slight movement of Dick’s hand in his pocket. He remembers how Dick dropped the remote in the pocket of his pants. Too late, the bomb goes off a couple yards away from everyone else, but demolishes nearby shrubbery. At that exact moment, Dick yanks him into a deep kiss.

 

* * *

 

Tonight was a shitty idea. Waking up this morning, actually, was a shitty idea. Jason can make a long timeline, by this point, of all his shitty ideas, starting with clawing his way out of a coffin and six feet of dry earth.

Today starts with coffee and ends with a surprise suicide-bomber. Dick tries to talk him down when it is just a gun, but as soon as the man rips off his over-shirt to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest – Jason grabs Dick by the wrist and they jump off the second-floor balcony. The landing is less than smooth, but they are up and running in no time. The explosion is ear-piercing. Jason feels fire on his back, and he twists around as he runs, working through the panic so he doesn’t burn his hands while shucking the jacket. He feels bruises on his stomach and the bones in his face feel shattered, but he knows that part, at least, isn’t real anymore.

The ghost of a laugh is in his ears, so he focuses on the ringing instead.

When they’re a safe distance, Dick staggers to his knees and Jason slams into him. They crash to the cement together. Dick jabs his elbow into Jason’s rib cage and orders a muffled, _“Get off.”_   Jason obeys. Dick rolls onto his back and Jason sits beside him. They’re laughing.

Their eyes meet. Dick’s eyes are normally an icy blue, but tonight they’re crinkled and dark as he laughs. “Jason,” he says, smiling. “Jaybird.” He reaches out a hand and touches Jason’s cheekbone, the one that isn’t cracked now, and Jason finds that the Joker’s laugh is gone, washed away by Dick’s giggles. “We’re _alive,”_ Dick informs, like it’s the funniest fucking thing – it is funny, actually - because he’s _right._

They _are_ alive, and it’s funny, but it’s good. Dick’s eyelids flutter downward, just barely peeking at Jason. Dick tugs the collar of Jason’s shirt. Jason leans down and they brush lips, just barely a kiss, but it’s also good.

 


End file.
